Happy Freakin' Birthday
by MarburyBlur
Summary: It's Wally's sixteenth birthday, his friends are celebrating, and it's an overall happy time. Until he has to go home to a cold house, with parents who do worse than forgetting his birthday. Warnings: Child Abuse, Wally whump. Not YJ canon for Wally's sixteenth.


Wally had been surprised when Batman had said Mount Justice had been invaded. He had been even more surprised when he went on to say the Team had already been incapacitated. But that didn't compare to the heart attack he had gotten when the Team and the Justice League, in their civvies, had jumped out from behind the couches.

"SURPRISE!" they shouted as Wally sped in from the Zeta tube.

"Gyah!" Wally shouted in surprise. He skidded to a stop as he quickly slowed his breathing and took in his surroundings.

"Holy shit, you guys! You scared the crap outta me!" Wally couldn't keep the giant grin off his face as he saw the rather large assortment of superheroes, young and older, and the decorations spread around the room.

As he realized the occasion, the Team ran up to him and started saying the generic phrases people say on birthdays, while music played from the ceiling and the other superheroes began to laugh and chat amongst themselves.

"Happy birthday, Wally!" Miss Martian cheered as she pulled up a tray of fresh cookies.

"Aw, thanks, Miss M!" Wally said as he took the tray and inhaled at least five of the cookies. Granted, her cookies weren't exactly "appetizing", but they looked a helluva lot better than the hockey pucks she first made. "You're lookin' better every day. Oh, I mean,_ they're_ looking better," Wally said with a wink.

After the collective, yet slightly muffled groans from those nearby, the party went on. It continued for hours, seemingly longer for the two speedsters present, but every moment of it was pure fun. He opened his presents, all fifty-two of them, and blew out the sixteen candles planted on one of the many cakes baked for the speedster. They all sang "Happy Birthday", and even Bruce sang along. Granted, he wasn't Batman at the moment, but it was still astonishing. There was a moment when Wally smashed one of the cakes into Barry's face, and merely Barry got a fork and began scooping it into his mouth at superspeed.

At 11:00 pm, people began leaving, starting with Billy Batson, when he was told it was past his bedtime. Soon enough, most of the teens were beginning to desire beds.

"Ugh, I really don't feel like running home. I actually have a full belly right now!" Wally enthused. "Can I crash here for tonight?" he asked the assortment of superheroes. He was standing in front of the zeta tubes with the others, his hands linked behind his head. Bruce, Barry, and the Team stood with him.

"Kid Lazy, it literally takes you thirty seconds to get home. Probably less," Artemis stated.

"Wow, thanks, harpy. I feel so welcome," Wally said sarcastically.

"But Kid, what about your parents? I'm sure they're upset that we stole you away all day," Barry joked.

"Oh, uh, we agreed to celebrate tomorrow," Wally stuttered.

"I bet they have something planned for you. You can't just leave them hanging," Dick reasoned.

Wally paled slightly as he realized he wouldn't get out of it. _One day. Just one goddamned day of respite is all I'm asking for._

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right. I think Mom's gonna make some mac and cheese," Wally smiled tightly. _Fuck._ "Well then, I'm gonna zip on over there. See you guys tomorrow." Before anyone could comment on his odd behavior, he was gone.

"...is it just me, or is Kid Mouth acting weirder than usual?" Artemis asked.

.o.

Wally had Zeta-tubed to one of the locations that was far away from his home, but not so much that it'd be overly suspicious. Even so, he didn't bother running, deciding to try and prolong the inevitable by taking a casual ten-mile stroll through Central City, in his civvies.

It didn't use to be this bad. He had been able to go home without too much dread. When he was young, he actually had a happy family, with generic piggyback rides and picnics. But soon after he got his superpowers, it had slowly but surely progressed to your average, neglectful family situation, with a mom that never acknowledged that she even had a son, and a dad that never allowed said son to talk without being spoken to first. But that was before his dad had gotten fired. Then, it had gotten even worse. His dad got some new friends, named Scotch and Vodka, and they became an ever-present sight in the house.

It was seven months ago that Rudy had first insulted Wally, and commented on his lack of importance in anybody's life.

It was two and a half months ago that Rudy had first hit Wally, and Wally had discovered Mary's complete apathy when her only comment was "Don't hit his face because I don't want the school to ask questions."

It was one week ago when Rudy broke Wally's leg. Well, technically not "broke", but the bone definitely did crack. Uncle Barry had commented on it when Wally was stumbling a bit during one of the run-of-the-mill weekly fights against the Rogues, but Wally explained it away as "I twisted my ankle when I slipped on the way here". Barry had barely believed his nephew, but eventually bought it when Wally said, "Do you really not remember that time where I fell on my face and broke my nose when I stepped on a pebble?" (True story. Sadly.)

Wally didn't know why he was covering for his dad. He used to believe that it was temporary, but Wally was a big boy now, and he believes in miracles less than he believes in magic. He didn't really know why he never fought back, or ran away, or told anyone. To be honest, Wally was a bit embarrassed that he, the fastest boy alive, wasn't able to defend himself from a mere civilian, for no obvious reason. Maybe it was because he thought that he'd be able to deal with it for the next two years, but deep down he knew that the only reason he hadn't done anything was fear. He was afraid of what his dad might do.

Which was totally stupid because he's a superhero. He deals with this shit, or at least some variation on it, everyday as part of his _job description_.

But he knew it was getting worse and that he was cracking.

Wally snapped out of his daydream and realized that he had been speeding the entire time without noticing. He was now only a block away from his dreaded destination, right next to the park. Had it been daytime, the park would've been full of little kids playing on the swings. As it was now, at 11:00ish at night, it was almost completely empty, except for some random person sitting on the bench on the opposite side of the park, reading something.

Wally slowed his pace to what would seem slow even to normal humans but knew it was futile once he saw his house.

"Fuuuuck!" Wally groaned, loudly enough that the random looked up from whatever he, or she, was doing. But Wally didn't care. He had enough issues already.

Too soon (seriously, when did his house get so close?), Wally was on the doorstep of his house. Not his home. This place would never be his "home", ever again.

He swallowed deeply and shoved his key into the lock and quietly turned it. The less noise he made when he entered his house, the less riled up his dad was. Sometimes.

This time, his theory was disproven. Once the front door barely even cracked open, Wally was yanked inside by a meaty fist and the door slammed shut behind him, effectively cutting off any escape route, not that he would even bother to run.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Rudolph yelled, shaking Wally by the collar of his shirt and effectively cutting off Wally's ability to respond. Even so, Wally knew not to respond; the sound of his voice only made his dad angrier.

Wally was thrown to the ground and his recently healed leg was stomped on again, not quite cracking it, but nearly so. Wally held in his shout of pain and focused on zoning out from the situation which sometimes helped to dull the pain. Sometimes.

Obviously, this was not his lucky day.

The words were sharp and cutting, though the overpowering smell of alcohol permeating the air helped lessen the sting of the insults from his father. Not so much the physical sting.

"You worthless son of a bitch." Stomp on the ankle, possibly spraining it, but thankfully not breaking it. "When was the last time you ever did any _good_ for this family?" Kick to his ribs, adding a fresh wave of aching due to the fact that the bruises from yesterday still had not completely healed. "I hate you. Mary hates you. In fact, I wouldn't doubt it if all of your 'superbuddies' were sitting in their secret base talking about how much they want you to die." Rudy picked up his son, and threw him to the wall. Wally hit it at a funny angle and felt a rib give. Hell, he _heard_ the rib give; the loud "snap" wasn't exactly subtle.

"Gah!" Wally couldn't restrain his gasp, and instantly regretted it once it slipped past his lips.

"You little pussy! You can't even take a little bit of discipline! How the hell did I end up with such a little girl for a son?!" Rudy raged as he increased the amount of his punches. Rudy tried to keep his knuckles away from Wally's face, but in the end, didn't really care because he had super-healing anyways.

He mercilessly kept it up for a good fifteen minutes until a dainty voice called out from the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready!" Mary called. Rudy stood up from the crumpled heap that was Wally collapsed on the floor and walked over to the kitchen, as if he hadn't just beaten his son.

The father stopped in the doorway and turned to look at Wally, who hadn't moved an inch. "When I'm done eating, I expect for your sorry face to be nowhere near me." With that, he completely erased the fact that he even had a son and began doting on his loving wife.

Wally lay on the floor on his back, struggling to breathe. Each breath brought a sharp pain through his body and only aggravated his other injuries. He felt something drip off his cheek, and moved his glazed green eyes to look at the liquid.

"Oh." Wally breathed out a laugh as he realized he had been biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. That snapped him out of his pain-induced stupor and he slowly rolled onto his stomach. All of a sudden, the stairs seemed really far away. Wally began his long trek.

After what seemed like days, Wally finally crawled into his room and quietly shut the door behind him. He shuffled over to his bed and pulled out a stash of food that he kept in secret so he'd be able to heal quick enough to not arouse suspicion. He swallowed his food and felt some of the bruises beginning to fade. When he felt decent enough to stand up, he limped to the bathroom to his other stash of medical supplies. He speedily wrapped his cracked ribs as best he could without help. He set to work on his ankle which had already swollen quite a bit.

"Shit, it's gonna be a bitch to run tomorrow," Wally realized. He wiped the blood of of his cheek and his chin, where it had dribbled down on his hazy odyssey to his room, and stripped off his shirt. He tossed the bloodied shirt onto the pile of other bloodied clothes in his room, which he was meaning to get to, someday.

By the time he had assessed and treated his injuries, he was exhausted. The speed-healing was taking it's toll on him and he quickly inhaled some more food, making a mental note to restock soon, and speed-brushed his teeth (it's not gross if you take ten seconds and have superspeed; it _is_ gross if you take ten seconds and you _don't_ have superspeed).

He climbed into his bed and sat in the corner furthest away from the door, keeping watch. His dad had made a few surprise entrances at night before, and Wally wanted to be prepared should it ever happen again.

Wally sighed as he began rehashing the day. He forlornly sang to himself:

"Happy birthday to me..."


End file.
